Tough Luck

Disclaimer: I'm but a humble author. This here is something made by a fan, for other fans.

In the words of a notorious abridged group: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Dragon Ball GT, and Dragon Ball Super are all owned by Funimation, Toei Animation, Shueisha and Akira Toriyama. Please support the official release.

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Chapter 1: Tough Luck

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Red sands, a weird piss-yellow sky, and the sweltering noontide sun. That was what the average Joe would note about Planet Sadala. Or at least that's what I found out after waking up in a ditch and scaring the life out of the hunch-backed old man digging it.

Blinking dark spots out my eyes, I ran them along the familiar open-door buildings running as far as I could see. Nobody feared being robbed. Why would they when you could sense the energy of everyone around?

And if you were good at masking it? Then fair fucks, was the reply by most.

But right now, I was more worried about where I'd find dinner. From atop my perch on one of the many thick-walled buildings, I scouted out today's victim.

He made his way through the market, through the narrow pathway marked by thousands of footsteps that had trod the path before him. I followed from high above, climbing using long-abandoned scaffolding on my way. I soon reached the end of the line, forced to hastily climb down before jumping and splaying myself across the roof of a low building.

Did anyone hear me? I strained my ears over my furiously beating heart to listen. A minute later, I poked my head over the ledge just in time to spot him trudging out of the pathway and into the Bazaar.

He didn't look like a particularly intimidating guy.

That being said, I couldn't see enough of him to tell. Only that he wore a long, flowing brown robe – its low hood pulled over his head. Around his waist hung a pouch. No doubt full of space credits that I could use to buy myself some food and maybe a bed.

Lord knows I'm fed up with the aches in the morning thanks to sleeping on the cold stone floor.

I was just about to make my move when I saw a twitch from a furry-looking brown band around his waist.

I stopped almost as suddenly as I had started, mouth partly open. It wasn't very often that I spotted a tailed Saiyan – not including myself, that is. My eyes fell to the dark brown tail trailing the ground behind me, and an instant later, I squashed the beginnings of what I realised was guilt.

There was no place for it when it came to my survival. Not even a shared experience between tailed Saiyans. For me, guilt was a luxury until I could afford some kind of basic standard of living. At least something like it used to be on Earth, anyway.

The sun arced upward, its heat blistering. The low, stone roofs of Sadalan buildings were pretty good at absorbing its heat but left my feet too toasty than comfortable. The rags I wore clung to my bony frame and my usually wild lion mane of hair drooped with sweat, some of it stuck against my forehead.

I hadn't budged an inch, crouched against the ledge, my eyes pinned on the dilapidated building the man had entered. My feet were blistered and sore, and my stomach groaned feebly, sending aches coursing through my limbs. I remained still. Waiting, watching, taking note of every escape route, every security guard patrol, where all the thugs were hanging around, and the appearance of anyone even distinctly noticeable.

Even if Sadala wasn't as vicious as Planet Vegeta, Saiyans will always be Saiyans. Always looking for a reason to fight. For the thugs, it was 'cause you looked at 'em funny. For the guards, you got too close and looked too poor. The everyday citizen's pretty docile for the most part, but give them a valid enough reason and they would beat you within an inch of your life.

After hours of biding my time, just as the sun dipped below the horizon, a blur of movement filled my vision and a flash of pain erupted across my face.

I teetered backwards, limbs screaming after hours of disuse. My instincts kicked into gear and I lurched forward, tail swishing. I faked a jab, my fist getting caught up in the flowing brown robe that the man wore. I jerked it back a little too harshly and stumbled. He rushed forwards, slamming a brutal set of punches to my chest, arms, and stomach I curled up under.

Ferocious winds brought tears to my eyes, his fists blurred as they rushed towards me. My mind at wit's end, I panicked and lashed my tail. It knocked aside a blow meant for my head and deflected it to my shoulder.

I winced, making a sound caught between a grunt and gasp, and shoulder-checked him, energising my muscles with as much ki as I could afford to. It sent him skidding to the other side of the roof and granted me a moment of rest.

I stepped back and my half-exposed back met the chill of the stony ledge. Hissing, I jerked, taking my eyes off the man for a moment. But a moment was all he needed. When I looked again, he'd vanished, leaving me searching wildly for any trace of him.

"You've been following me," a soft but deep voice whispered, filling my ears as if carried by the wind itself. A pause. It was closer now; right behind me. "Who are you, brat, and what do you want from me?"

I whirled around and haphazardly stepped inward, my arm swinging in a facsimile of a punch. My fist hit nothing, earning me a swift, unseen, and above all, painful blow to my diaphragm instead. It forced my eyes so wide open that I thought they'd pop out of my head. All the air swiftly exited my body, and along with it, all the fight left in me.

I heaved, kneeling. My stomach desperately clenched in an attempt to throw up anything it could but I knew it would find nothing. The toll of everything he'd thrown at me hit me all at once and I just barely managed to look up from my position on the floor.

I didn't sense it before. If I did, I would have avoided all of this. Following him, trying to fight back, all of it. The barest hints of… something wafting off the man in waves; restrained but there. Slowly, it grew to be cloying and the cries of thousands rang in my ears. Acrid smoke clogged my mouth and nose, bringing tears to my eyes as I fought every inch to simply breathe.

It was gone as swiftly as it came, the world slowly easing back into focus.

I looked up at the man, a newfound caution guiding my every move. Brown robes covered his body from head to toe, he pulled the hood up to reveal his face. A few thick bangs of inky hair hung over his eyes, the rest of it pulled back in a ponytail. A ratty blindfold covered his eyes, frayed with the markings of time. Grey-patched stubble covered the rest of his face, his mouth turned down as he scowled at me.

"You're pretty slow on the uptake so I'll ask again," he shifted and squatted down, grabbing me by the hair and lifting my head so that it was level with his own. "Who are you and why the hell have you been following me around all day?"

I smirked, my mind working overtime to formulate a plan to escape. "Hmm… should I tell you? Let's both be honest, you don't care all that much. You came up here to beat on me 'cause you're stronger. No more no less."

All the while, I searched for the reassuring well of energy that had accompanied me for the last decade. I held back on this in the fight, unwilling to draw unnecessary attention to myself from the people down below. I cursed at my luck, pulling my hands out from beneath myself.

At this point, I had to go for broke.

"See?" I laughed at the silence, harsh and mocking. My heart dropped a little when his frown deepened but I didn't let any fear show on my face. I couldn't. "You don't care about me and I don't care about you."

Slowly, I raised my hand, shivering with the power coursing through my body but careful enough to hopefully not alert him. I let it explode outward in an instant. "Now, hold still… and take this!"

My vision was momentarily filled with yellow light before I squeezed my stinging eyes shut, feeling the blistering hot energy ebb. Inky blotches swam across my vision, as I stormed back to the ledge overlooking the market and vaulted over it without giving a moment to spare.

Icy blades of wind rushed through my threadbare clothing, the chill seeping in through the numerous holes in them. I laughed, relief bubbling through my voice, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

Even the chilling wind didn't seem so cold anymore. I braced myself, ready to take off across the skies and to safety. Then, a searing sensation flashed across my body, followed by thousands of pinpricks. I grew sluggish and tired, my descent stopped with a sudden jerk and my eyes tingled.

I burned the last dregs of my energy to look up, following my taut tail, travelling up the arm holding it, and stared right at the blindfolded Saiyan.

"Id…ot…kids…f…cki…hel…" the words reach me in pieces. "...wear..g…blindfol…"

Even as I went under and he drew me in by the tail like a curtain, I struggled and thrashed, desperation fuelling my last wind.

(Break)

What felt like hours later, I was pulled out of a dream filled with a delicious assortment of food with no end in sight.

The softness beneath me felt weird, all my muscles halfway tensed out of sheer discomfort. As tempted as I was to lie down and go back to sleep, I knew I couldn't. So I sat up, eyes running over the stony walls and moss-covered roof of the room. I took stock of my new clothes, scowling at the brown robes I now wore.

To my left was a cup of water, filled to the brim with what seemed to be clean water. My heart did a double-take at the sight and I swallowed, wincing at the dryness of my mouth and throat.

How long had it been since I'd drunk anything remotely clean? As a Saiyan, there was a lot of shit I could get away with that would have killed me when I was on Earth.

I frowned, my eyes boring into the cup. For all I knew, it could be poisoned.

"I haven't poisoned it, you know," an amused wizened voice drifted in from the room's exit.

Old wouldn't be enough to do the man justice. He looked as if he was alive long before the birth of the universe and that he would live long after it. His wrinkles were so pronounced, his skin so heavy-looking that I wouldn't be surprised if he keeled over then and there. His hair was a shocking white and his ivory robe hung off his small frame. Like the man I'd fought, he wore a blindfold over his eyes.

"Who are you people," I slowly stood up. "And what do you want from me?"

A snort sounded from behind the old man, a familiarly deep voice snarking, "Would you look at that, Abbot? The irony."

Stubbles walked into the room and stood beside the elderly man.

"You," I growled, readying myself to leap at him.

It didn't matter that I was at a disadvantage. I was so angry that I'd been caught that I wanted little more than to punch him until the anger left me.

He turned to face me, his robe fluttering as if pushed up by the wind. A pale grey glow lit up around him, growing thicker and brighter the longer he stared.

I couldn't move. My anger simply evaporated. Smoke forced its way through my mouth, and tears blurred my eyes, leaving me gasping for air. Screams reverberated in my ears, bouncing about my skull. A bone-chilling cold slowly seeped up my spine. First, my legs grew numb, then I could feel nothing at all. The screams grew louder, reaching a feverish pitch, and my vision began to darken.

The next thing I knew, I was on the floor, gratefully taking in deep lungfuls as I looked up at the furious old man.

"Escar," the man's voice was quiet but danger oozed through it. "Leave. Now. We do not turn our power onto the defenceless. Let alone a defenceless child. Go and practise your forms and clean the hall of war."

Stubbles—no, Escar huffed, shrugging his shoulders. "Defenceless? You should've seen him earlier. Tried to blind me. Still, not my problem if you wanna keep the boy around. He certainly needs help after that showing."

Against my better nature, I scowled at him. Escar threw a lazy smirk over his shoulder and left the room, leaving me alone with the old man.

He bent down without complaint and helped me up, moving over and patting the empty spot on the bed to his left. After eyeing the door, I sighed and sat down beside him, making sure I could see enough of him out of my peripheral vision.

"What's your name, young man?"

I stared at him, annoyed that he wore a blindfold. There was nothing for me to gauge his intentions from barring the soft smile on his face.

"...It's Korn."

"And what brings you to our monastery, young Korn?"

Now I was confused. I shifted slightly so that I was facing him.

"The heck are you talking about? I didn't come here by choice. Escar grabbed my tail and brought me here."

He smiled at me, revealing a set of perfect teeth. "Ah, but you see, you still came here. And if I heard this correctly, you chose to go after Escar. Besides, the method by which you arrived does not matter as much as the fact that you are here."

I shook my head bemused at all this. "About that, old man, where am I?"

"I'm glad you asked, young Korn," he stood up, unfurling a white tail from his waist. Bringing his hands together, he bowed. "I am Abbot. I help manage the affairs of our humble monastery."

"Is that your name or your title?"

He simply smiled at me and started to walk away, stopping to beckon me over.

"Come, allow me to show you around. It is almost time for supper. Then, we will discuss your… circumstances and what we can do moving forward."

'We?' I wondered as I walked down the meagre stone hallway.

The torches affixed on the walls stretched as far as I could see. A bell rang. Once. Twice. Thrice. And then it stopped.

"It seems we are just on time. Off to the hall of nourishment, then," Abbot declared, increasing his gait even further.

At that point, I had to jog to keep up, my new brown robes itching annoyingly against my skin. "Still a lot better than my rags…"

"Hm? Did you say something?" Abbot asked, not turning around.

"No… no I didn't." I followed him out of the hallway and into a courtyard.

The place looked barren, for lack of a better term. It was surrounded by paths that led to different entrances into the building behind me. At the centre, three shirtless children meticulously went through the different forms for some sort of martial art style. Around them stalked an intimidating man. His robe was brown like mine, and a similarly coloured tail wrapped around his waist.

I quickly realised that everyone I'd seen thus far had tails. "What is this? Some sort of cult?"

"Ha!" Abbot barked out a short laugh, scaring the crap out of me. I hadn't realised his hearing was so keen.

"A keen imagination! You remind me of young Callio," he gestured towards the child on the furthermost right of the row, his bare body riddled with frightening scars. "Always coming up with novel ideas."

I took a moment longer to wonder how he got them, eventually deciding that I didn't care.

"My point still stands, old man," I frowned. "Why have you gathered a bunch of tailed Saiyans?"

He looked at me and his eyebrows shot upward, threatening to disappear into his hairline. "It isn't obvious?"

At my silence, he simply sighed.

"Young Korn, tell me, how much do you know of us Saiyans?"

I dug my heels into the dirt, kicking up a small dust cloud. "I know that we like to eat and fight. We turn into raging monkeys when we look at the full moon. We've also got a king… what's he called again? Sardine – no, that just sounds wrong. Saldana…? Salada? Hmm… still sounds wrong."

"It's Sadala," Abbot helpfully supplied.

"Right. Anyway, King Sadala stopped some kind of civil war a good while back and he's also the strongest Saiyan ever so we all follow him. Whether you're a Saiyan or not, that's just the planet's culture. Might makes right and all that."

"Is that all?"

I made a show of counting my fingers, more bored than anything else. "Yeah, that's all."

"Good," he began, surprising me. "You know more than most children who arrive here. Saves me time. Young Korn, not all Saiyans have tails."

I stared at him, completely unimpressed. "Well, duh. People choose to get it removed, right? Or maybe they get it torn off in battle."

"Not too long ago some would kill you for merely suggesting the first," Abbot shook his head wryly. "The second does happen from time to time. However, no, most Saiyans don't have tails in the first place. Evolution—or at least that is how it is posited by most on Sadala."

I blinked, completely blindsided. This was something I hadn't seen at all in my past life. Neither in the manga nor anything else. "...So what? I'm a neanderthal, then?"

"What is a… neanderthal?"

"Nevermind," I cut in, steering the conversation away from my slip of the tongue. "Tell me more about this whole evolution deal."

He stared at me for a moment and nodded. "As such, we tailed Saiyans are often seen as dangerous to society and are ostracised quite often. People are… shall I say unwilling to associate with us. Though I must admit that it is nothing compared to a decade ago. Things were so bad that King Sadala himself had to step in. I saw it fit to open up a haven where I can teach those like you and me to control the Oozaru state."

Suddenly, the scornful remarks and apprehensive stares I got made so much more sense. I'd initially chalked it down to my dishevelled appearance or the fact that I stole for a living and left it at that.

"And the blindfolds?"

"A metaphorical white flag, if you will. To show that we are not a threat."

I stared at him, eyes narrowed. "Say that I join your monastery—"

"—then I shall be pleased—"

"—If I do, will I be forced to wear one?"

"You will not," Abbot reassured me, gesturing to the blindfoldless children and the master out in the centre of the field. "However, that will change on the night of a full moon. In this case, wearing a blindfold is something that we must all do whether we have control of our mental faculties or not. I would rather the monastery not be reduced to rubble, thank you very much and have done a good enough job at that for close to a decade."

I hummed, looking out at the children training in the courtyard. Their bodies glistened with sweat, small but compact muscles visibly rippling with their every movement. Despite all this, they managed to move with a sort of serenity that felt foreign to combat. Whether it was the lumbering one on the left, the small one in the middle, or the scarred one on the furthermost right. Their movements were all in sync, power visibly leaking from them in bursts of multicoloured light when they struck out.

Enthralled, I lost myself in awe as they went through from one form to the next.

Abbot broke me out of my trance with a simple nudge to my shoulder. "Come, young Korn. Dinner grows cold. Those three shall follow suit. If you're so eager to meet them, I will introduce you."

"No… that's fine…" I muttered absentmindedly as I seared every one of their movements into my mind.

The very same movements played themselves over in my mind dozens of times on my way to dinner. I only noticed I was in the hall of nourishment when a bowl of hot stew was placed on my table, its aroma making me aware of the gaping hole in my stomach.

"Eat up, young Korn," Abbot pushed the bowl towards me. "Better you make your decision on a full stomach than an empty one, no?"

My stomach growled, drawing an embarrassed flush from me and a chuckle from Abbot. "Well… my stomach certainly agrees."

As good as the stew was, I couldn't help but think about my new life. Nothing was the same. Not the planet, not the Saiyans, nothing. If something this small was so different, then what the hell was everything else going to be like?

The question plagued me until I climbed into my bed and sleep dragged me into the abyss.